Chapter 19
BEFORE
December, Twelve Years Ago
Julie didn’t fly back for Christmas like she said she would. She was too overwhelmed with school, and didn’t want to travel. She was also thriving in the California sun, her skin more tanned than when she left, and her dark-brown hair looking a shade or two lighter.
Julie knew how upset I was over her promising to come home and then bailing, so she triple-swore she’d be back for Jackson’s eighteenth birthday next summer. That meant it would almost be a full year before I saw her in person. I had to keep telling myself she wasn’t my mom—she would come back.
Since Julie wasn’t going to attend Christmas, Sam decided he would stay in New York, so Christmas Eve ended up just being me, Jackson, Marie, and Phil.
This year they were going to one of Marie’s sister’s houses, and Jackson had already given me a heads up that it was going to be just as chaotic as his parent’s anniversary party. I seriously couldn’t wait.
Julie told me I could pick out an outfit from her closet—her way of sliding back into my good graces—and I felt like I was shopping at the mall as I went through her closet.
Jackson was laying on his back on her bed as I perused, totally uninterested as he scrolled through his phone.
“I don’t think Julie has even worn half this stuff,” I said as I pulled out a black denim jacket that still had the tags on it.
“No wonder she has no money to fly back home; she wastes all her money on clothes,” Jackson said bitterly from where he was laying.
Jackson was just as upset as I was that Julie wasn’t coming home, and even more aggravated because he bombed his classes this trimester. He wasn’t studying for the ACT in the spring, and for the first time ever, he had actually failed a class.
“She didn’t stay in California because of money. She stayed because she’s stressed over her classes.”
“Keep on telling yourself that, Addie,” Jackson quipped. “It’s winter break; she doesn’t have classes till January.”
God, he was so grumpy these days. Argumentative with the entire world.
“What are you wearing to the party?” I asked as I put my hands on my hips to face him.
“A pair of sweats and a hoodie. I’m not dressing up for these people who are just going to call me Sam a hundred times tonight.”
I tried to think of something to say to pull him out of his black mood. “I don’t think you have to worry. Your hair covers half your face these days; they won’t know who you are at all.”
This was the longest Jackson had ever gone without a haircut, and his dark hair was so long now he had to constantly push his bangs behind his ears on one side, and it had started to flip up at the back of his neck.
It didn’t look bad—it made him look like he belonged at a heavy rock show.
I just missed seeing the entirety of his face all the time.
He propped himself up on his elbows and gave me a wicked grin.
“You don’t like my long hair?” He sprung up from the bed, shaking his head in my face so his bangs brushed against my cheeks. I laughed and pushed him away from me, wiping a hand down my face to scratch the tickle.
“Oh my god, I bet it would fit in braids.” I put a hand over my mouth, stifling the giggle that tried to sneak its way out.
Jackson ran his hands through his hair, watching his reflection in the mirror of Julie’s vanity. He met my eyes in the reflection. “Do it, my family would hate it.”
“Okay, but I don’t know how. I’d have to watch a YouTube tutorial. Go brush it out and let me finish picking an outfit.”
Jackson left the room to go use his hairbrush, and I turned around and quickly went through Julie’s closet again, picking out a brown long-sleeve top and the black denim jacket that still had the tags on it.
I switched out my leggings for a pair of her dark jeans, and had just slipped off my shirt when Jackson walked back into the room. I gasped and my arms flew to cover my stomach instead of my chest.
He stopped in his tracks with his hand still on the doorknob, cheeks reddening and eyes growing wide as they dropped down to my chest.
I was too stunned to move. Jackson watched me standing there in my cream-colored push-up bra that I was way too excited to buy when I found it at Goodwill.
Jackson’s eyes slammed shut, and his other hand flew to his crotch. Oh my god, was he . . . reacting to seeing me like this?
“Jesus, I’m so sorry. It’s just like, a natural reaction. I’m not trying to be a freak. Fuck, I’ll give you a minute,” he strangled out as he backed out the room, slamming the door behind him.
I was still standing there, heart racing in embarrassment. I finally snapped out of it, grabbing Julie’s shirt off the bed and pulling it on in a flash, then ripping off the tag from the denim jacket and throwing it on. Now my body had a double-layer of protection from Jackson’s eyes.
My cheeks still felt hot as I heard him start to play the drums in his room. I waited until the song was finished, then I counted another minute in my head before heading down the hallway to his bedroom.
I knocked twice, waiting for him to give me a signal that it was safe. I had my ear against the door, waiting for him to call me in when he pulled it open, causing me to fall into his chest. We pushed apart from each other faster than we fell together.
“Sorry!” we both said at the same time.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Can we like, not be weird about what happened?”
My words spewed out like vomit. “Absolutely. We never speak of it again. Just like when I started my period at the restaurant—it’s wiped from our memories.”
Or, ya know, the time we kissed at a party, and dry humped each other at the restaurant.
Jackson started laughing, covering his face and rubbing his hands up and down.
“We can blame Julie. Everything is her fault for leaving,” he said good-naturedly.
“Alright, now that that’s settled, do you still want me to do your hair?” I asked, dying to change the subject.
He looked at my hands, then over at the staircase.
“Probably not. We have to leave soon.” I was actually grateful he changed his mind, because my hands were still shaking.
I wasn’t sure if I would be able to properly use them right now.
And touching Jackson would not be a good idea, either. For him or me, I couldn’t tell.
***
Jackson’s family’s Christmas party was just as bustling as he predicted. I recognized a lot of the family from the anniversary party, but his aunt had invited her husband’s family, too, who were also Italian. I didn’t even know who was actually related to the Delvecchios and who wasn’t.
Some of Jackson’s uncle's nephews were around our age, and we were hanging out with them in the basement of his aunt’s house, hiding away from the adults with a bottle of vodka that one of the older cousins sneaked for us.
We were playing a card game called spoons, and these guys went hard.
I wished Julie was here, because all the cousins were boys, and they were obnoxious and rough while we played.
Someone had the idea to put the spoons halfway up the staircase, so we had to run across the entire basement to grab them.
A guy named Luca suggested that whoever got to the spoons first got to take a shot.
The game turned super competitive after that because there were five of us and only one bottle of alcohol.
I had lost every game so far, so I was stone-cold sober in a room with four annoying teenage boys. Jackson was trying his hardest, and he was hands down the drunkest out of all the other guys.
Once everyone had a steady buzz going, I started to actually try during the game. I wanted at least one shot, but some dick named Brian was being a stickler for the rules, and hogging the bottle.
Someone got up sneakily to tiptoe to the stairs for spoons, and when I noticed, I sprung up from the floor, throwing my cards down in a panic. I ran for the stairs, but someone grabbed my waist from behind and pulled me back. I toppled backward, falling to the floor and hitting my tailbone.
All the boys passed me, each grabbing a spoon and waving it in my face before joining the circle again. Jackson walked up to me slowly, throwing the spoon in his hand down to the floor with a clink and helping me stand.
“Which one of them pushed you?” Jackson asked.
I rubbed my tailbone, sure there would be a bruise later. I turned around and pointed. “That asshole, Brian. Is it really too much to ask for one sip?”
Jackson didn’t answer me. Instead, he stormed past me and shoved Brian in the shoulder as he was taking a drink, causing him to stumble and hit his tooth on the lip of the bottle.
“What the fuck, man?” Brian said as he covered his mouth.
“You hurt Addie,” Jackson said, his fists clenched at his sides.
Brian’s eyes flicked toward me. “I was playing the game; it’s not that serious.”
“You’re right, it’s not that serious. So, you didn’t have to push her down,” Jackson quipped.
Brian shrugged a shoulder like he couldn’t care less. “Okay, and she’s standing. She’s fine.”
“That’s not the point,” Jackson argued. “Just give her one fucking sip of the vodka. You’re being a dick.”
Everyone in the basement was watching the interaction. I didn’t want Jackson to defend my honor—mostly because he had the same look in his eye that he’d had when he fought Peter. The last thing we needed was a fight with some kid we had just met, especially over something as stupid as spoons.
“Everything is good,” I said nervously. “Let’s go, Jackson. It’s almost time to go anyways.”
Jackson turned around and looked at me like he agreed. Brian dropped his defenses—then Jackson stunned us all by turning around and punching Brian directly in the nose.
I gasped and covered my own face while Brian let out a yelp. Everyone else’s jaws dropped.
“Don’t touch her again,” Jackson said before turning around and running up the stairs. I whipped around just as fast, running up after him.
When we made it to the top of the stairs, he grabbed my arm, and we slithered through the throngs of people until he found the front door and we slipped outside into the December air.
Jackson started laughing, putting a hand over his abdomen as he hunched over.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, breathless from our run.
Jackson shook his head, standing up straight and catching his breath.
“That guy was so fucking annoying. He’s not gonna do anything about it; his parents would find out about the alcohol and kill him.
My uncle’s side of the family is way stricter than mine.
” Jackson ran his hands through his hair, leaving them clasped around the back of his neck.
I stared at him, still in disbelief over what he just did.
“Do I thank you?” I asked with a small chuckle.
“If I’m being honest, that was more about me than you. I wanted to deck him from the moment he opened his mouth.”
I shook my head. “You’re a lunatic. Don’t make that a habit.”
His hands dropped from his neck. “Let’s take a walk. I need to sober up a little before we find my parents.”
We walked down the block, finding a playground and sitting on the swings. Jackson was trying to see how high he could swing, while I just pushed myself back and forth lightly with my foot on the ground.
“So, what bothered you so much about Brian that you wanted to, in your words, ‘deck him from the moment he opened his mouth’?”
Jackson slowed himself down on the swing, turning to face me. “He was such a creep—didn’t you notice the way he was staring at you?”
I reared my head back, suppressing a laugh. “I don’t think he was staring at me as much as he was staring at that bottle of vodka.”
Jackson scoffed. “Trust me, he was trying to undress you with his eyes.”
“Oh, was he?” I joked. “And how would you know that?”
Jackson looked away. I couldn’t tell why he was being so weird. “I heard him say something to one of the guys when you went to the bathroom.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’d he say?”
Jackson stood up from the swing, motioning for me to follow. “It doesn’t matter; he got what he deserved.”
I followed Jackson back to the house, trying to keep up with his quick stride. “Just tell me, I won’t get upset. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
“He . . . He was just talking about how good you looked, and said that he was thinking about asking you out,” Jackson finally said.
My lips parted and I furrowed my eyebrows. “And that’s bad because . . . ?”
“Because he was an asshole!” Jackson’s voice started to rise. “And you deserve better than that.”
“Okaaay,” I said. “I guess, thanks again?”
“Yeah,” Jackson said with a slight nod. “That’s what friends do.” They protect each other. If Jackson thought keeping Brian away from me was protecting me, then I trusted his judgment.
I gave him another nod, wondering why it bothered him so much. But I didn’t question him anymore. I was just happy to finally leave the party.